Chapter 10

10

M urdoch hadn't meant to kiss her; hadn't really been thinking about it at all. All he knew, in that one moment before his mouth captured hers, was that he wanted to silence her, to answer her challenge in a way that even she couldn't defy, or deny.

Lydia Knox. She was as infuriating as she was intriguing, and she awoke feelings inside of him that he hadn't paid any heed to in far longer than just the past two years.

She was beautiful; the flash and fire of her temper only made her moreso. Her eyes glittered like emeralds with sparks hidden in their depths. The pale luster of her skin and smooth gleam of her night-black, velvety tresses made him recall stories of the fae folk walking the moors and bewitching those who heard their soft, plaintive songs.

If she was such, then he was truly in danger of falling under her spell. Murdoch doubted that he would mind being spellbound by such a woman, be she Fair Folk or mortal.

As his lips met hers, all argument faded away in a rush of intensity and sweetness.

Her lips were as soft as the linens in which Wilma dressed Finn and tasted of wine, the sweet scone from their noon meal, and a light trace of sweat from her journey, coupled with an odd leather-and-parchment scent that imbued his senses. Her mouth opened in surprise, a soft gasp rushing between their lips as he deepened the kiss.

Yielding, honied and pliant, her mouth was intoxicating to a man who'd long been without such sweetness or softness for many a season. Murdoch had never shared such a kiss with his first wife.

They had barely ever even touched unless it was absolutely necessary and even then, their contact had been as brief as possible, full of rigid touches and words that had neither kindness nor softness to them.

Kissing Lydia was like drinking the finest honey mead after living his entire life drinking brackish water from an ill-maintained cistern. Without forethought he pulled her closer to deepen the kiss and taste more of her.

Lydia gasped again, this time with an edge of shock and unease. Her hands pressed firmly against his chest, pushing him away as she stumbled free of his grip.

For a long moment they stood staring at each other. Murdoch drank in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the color of summer roses in the garden, and her kiss-swollen lips. His body felt fiery, the beginnings of a rigidity he'd not felt in years gathering in his groin.

Lydia flushed a deeper rose color and looked away. "Excuse me…I…Hector…" She turned and darted away from him, through the door that led to the garden.

Murdoch watched until the door closed behind her, then released a deep breath and turned to go back to his study. He'd never wanted to return to a meeting less, but the plans were important. While Gordon was right that most of the Elders and council members would be pleased with the result of his visit to Clyde Castle, there were some who would not be as satisfied.

Even now there were council members who regarded him with suspicion and disdain and whispered such accusations as ‘kin-killer' behind his back when they thought he was out of earshot. Like as not, they'd try to find a way to challenge his lairdship on other grounds.

He'd secured a betrothal, but Wilma wasn't the only one who would protest the manner in which he'd accomplished it. He needed to plan his explanation and his responses carefully, as well as prepare himself for the inevitable arguing that would follow. It would be counterproductive and foolhardy to lose his temper.

At least the thought of the council meeting took care of the aching tightness in his groin.

Hector was still outside with Wilma and Finn when Lydia entered the gardens. Hector woofed as she approached. He came bounding up to her to get his ears scratched, then wandered back to flop down and watch Finn with an adoring gaze. Lydia smiled in exasperation. "Some guard ye are. Abandoning me for a bairn. Though tis a cute bairn."

Wilma smiled. "Come and join us if ye like. The weather's good and Finn's learning to walk on uneven ground. Tis safer for him to learn out here where there are nae stairs to tumble down or furniture to strike."

"Ye're right about that." Lydia seated herself on the ground beside Wilma and watched as the young toddler made his way over to Hector with a determined wobble and a babble of baby chatter.

"Ye look fair flushed. Are ye well?" Lydia turned to see Wilma regarding her curiously.

She blushed slightly darker, remembering what had taken place with Murdoch. She wasn't ready to talk about the kiss or her feelings regarding it, but Wilma did deserve an answer. She settled on what had happened before she and Murdoch were alone. "I was looking for Hector, and I accidentally intruded on a meeting between the laird and his advisors. It was embarrassing."

"I can imagine. But surely Murdoch dinnae make ye feel too badly for it."

"Nay. He was polite enough, though he said he'd prefer that his betrothed nae embarrass him like that in the future. But I dinnae ken that it was his study. I've nae exactly been given much of a tour, aside from where me rooms are and how to get to the Great Hall or the kitchens or the like."

"Well, I've Finn for now, but sometime when he's with the maids or Murdoch, I'll give ye a better showing of the place." Wilma smiled.

"Thank ye." Thinking of her rooms made her remember what Murdoch had said about them. "Do ye have a lot of family living here?"

"Nae so much. Murdoch, Finn, me father, Gordon - me brother - and meself. Why do ye ask?"

"Because Murdoch said he'd given me his quarters, and I wondered if there was a lack of space, and that was why." Lydia flushed. "He said it was a courtesy, but I feel awkward for taking his rooms."

"Ye shouldnae, after all, it was his decision." Wilma smiled gently at her. "I daenae ken what me cousin told ye, but he told me that, aside from seein' to yer comfort, he dinnae want ye to be placed in the Lady's chambers, because they used to be his wife's. He dinnae want ye to feel as though ye were being treated as her replacement and naythin' more."

Lydia swallowed. "Tis surprisingly kind of him to think so much of me."

Wilma looked sharply as Lydia. "And what do ye mean by ‘surprising'? Murdoch's a good man, and good to those he cares for, or who happen to be in his care."

"I can see that, aye." Lydia looked around at the castle grounds. "It looks as if he cares well for his clan."

"He does. He's a good laird, nay matter what some might say about him. But that's nae me place to speak of, so I'll say nay more." Wilma made a face.

"I believe ye that he's a good man and a good laird. I just…" Lydia found her hand straying towards a small wildflower before a litany of childish babble caused her look up and see Finn tottering determinedly in her direction. She caught the bairn easily and smiled at his giggles.

"Ye just…" Wilma prompted her.

"I just - I can see he's a good laird and a good man. But I wonder if he's a good father, and if he'll be a good husband."

She was instantly aware that she'd said the wrong thing, as Wilma stilled, her smile vanishing as if it had never been. "Ye've heard things, haven't ye?"

She had, but she didn't think she wanted to speak of them. She had a feeling that revealing the rumors she'd heard from Isobel would only make Wilma angry with her. Besides, feigning ignorance might get her a more precise understanding of what Murdoch's clan thought, as well as information on what had really transpired.

She forced herself to shrug and adopt the same look she wore when she was curious about something her sisters were trying to avoid telling her. "Nae much, and naythin' on that front. I only ken that he had a wife who passed away. Finn's mother, I'm guessin'. Is there something else I should ken?"

Wilma's eyes searched her face. "Ye…havenae heard? The stories?"

"Nae at all. Should I have?" She kept her eyes on Wilma's face, and a puzzled expression on her own. "Is there something ye can tell me that I need to ken about Murdoch or the clan?"

Wilma hesitated, then shook her head. "Nay. Nae that I can tell ye. Words from me wouldnae make much difference in the end. Tis somethin' ye'll learn of soon enough."

"Is it…bad? Or is something wrong?"

Wilma shook her head again, then rose from the ground and brushed the grass from her skirts. "As I said, tis somethin' ye'll learn of soon enough. Best I daenae speak of it one way or the other."

She reached down and picked up Finn. The child gurgled happily, a line of drool streaking down the corner of his chin as he showed off a mouth full of baby teeth. "I need to take Finn in to bathe and feed him. I'll see ye at dinner."

Lydia watched as Wilma turned away. She felt chilly and suddenly lonely. She'd never lived in a place without her sisters, and the idea of being without female company made her suddenly, desperately, homesick. She pushed herself upright and reached to catch Wilma's shoulder, mindful of Finn and the need to not jostle him.

Wilma stopped and looked back at her with a questioning gaze. Lydia swallowed and looked down at the bairn in the other woman's arms. "I was wondering…could I come with ye? I'd like to learn how to care for him too."

Wilma's uncertain expression melted like ice in the spring sun. "Aye. I think that's an excellent idea."